Personal Obsession
by mabelreid
Summary: One shot Her pain is his obsession


**_Disclaimer: please see my profile_**

**_A/n this is a one shot that's been circling around in my head for a week or so. Please enjoy!_**

**_Personal Obsession_**

He moved the metal bar that opened the door to the gym, as quietly as he could. It was freezing cold as though the heat from the building didn't penetrate it. It moved smoothly, but the door creaked at bit as he opened it. The overhead light were on, but they didn't illuminate his favorite hiding place near the end of one of the bleachers.

He froze at the squeak of his shoes on the gymnasium floor as he walked. She didn't seem to hear him because she didn't stop or look around. He let out his breath with a whoosh and continued to his usual place of watching.

_You mean stalking!_

He wiped the sweat off his forehead with shaking fingers. He wasn't stalking her! Stalking meant that you followed the object of your obsession around. You drove past their house twice a day, or wrote long, rambling letters, or one of many other weird behaviors.

_You are obsessed!_

The voice insisted on reminding him that his personal obsession had the best of him once again. The slap of her gloves on leather and her hard breathing sent little tingles along the base of his spine. The heavy bag swung out under the onslaught of her kicks and she nearly lost her balance.

He smiled when she swore loudly, and hit the bag as if she pummeled the face of their most recent un-sub. The line holding the bag creaked as she kicked it with one sneaker clad foot. It looked like someone should be steadying the bag for her. He took one tentative step forward, but stopped. He couldn't just walk out there and ask her if she wanted him to hold the bag for her. She obviously wanted to be alone, which is why she came down her so late at night.

The lights of the gymnasium cast shadows near his hiding place so that if she looked over at him, she wouldn't see him standing there staring at her. He leaned against the edge of the bleachers and watched her wipe away the sweat from her face with the white towel around her shoulders. The dark blue sports bra and black shorts showed off her toned, and tanned, abdomen and legs.

His heart rate began to spike as he watched her beat the heavy bag into submission. She'd pulled her hair back into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. He didn't really like her hair that way. He liked it when her hair fell across her shoulders.

She suddenly stopped and looked back over her shoulders as if she felt his hungry eyes staring at her body like a starving man at a banquet celebrating the end of the world. He jerked back, pressing his body against the hard wood of the seat. His heart raced and his hands began to sweat. She'd be angry if she knew he watched her this way. He couldn't stop though, ever since the first time he followed her down after a very tough case.

She'd gone back to punching and kicking the heavy bag. How did she have so much energy after such an exhausting week? He didn't know… He just wished he could find a way, as she had, to let go of all the horror and blood.

He peeked out around the bleachers again. She'd stopped, dropping her arms to her sides. The rage in her eyes, the horror and the sorrow for screaming children and crying parents brimmed over as if someone had filled it too fast. She threw herself down on the mat and put her arms on her knees. He watched as tears began dropping from her beautiful dark eyes. She put her face on her arms and cried. Her sobs wracked her body and tore at his heart.

He made himself turn away from her and press his back against the bleachers. He wanted so desperately to go out there and put his arms around her. He wanted to feel the warmth and softness of her body. He wanted to say all the right things to comfort her and stop her tears. He looked back out at where she sat huddled on the floor and took a hesitant step forward. She looked up, not at him, but at the door opposite where he stood that led to the women locker room. He froze again in his tracks as she wiped impatiently at her eyes and got up from the mat.

He moved back into the shadows, holding his breath until he heard the door close. He let out the breath with a whoosh and cursed himself for once again failing to take a chance. His shoulders slumped as he headed to the double doors at the end of the gym.

He could stop and wait for her to emerge. He could pretend he'd come down for a workout instead of following her. He could say Hotch had called them back for another case. He could make up any one of a thousand reasons to be there. The trouble was that any one of the reasons he could use, would make him sound like a pathetic jerk.

He hung his head and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He could wait for her to come out of the locker room. He could try to say something or do something to make her see that he cared desperately for her.

He looked up at the gymnasium doors and then at the elevator._ It wouldn't do any good to fool himself, _he thought in disgust. His courage wouldn't change over night to that of someone that she'd notice. He pushed the button for the elevator.

His personal obsession would have to wait until the next bad case. All he had was the hope that next time would be different.


End file.
